


Pluie de la Fraise

by ryukoishida



Series: You Are the Cream in my Coffee [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagisa Hazuki, the very tardy museum guide and soon-to-be kitchen apprentice who’s obsessed with sweets, and Rei Ryugazaki, the barista who strives to make the most beautiful latté art, meet in the midst of winter raindrops and the scent of peaches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pluie de la Fraise

            He really needs to start waking up to his alarm clock, even though somehow, he still manages to sleep through three alarms in a row this morning. It has taken his sister’s ultimate weapon – a fresh piece of ice cube down the front of his too-big sleep shirt – to get a blood-curling screech in the Hazuki household, and only when the older sibling laughed until there were tears in her eyes did the young man finally woke up bleary-eyed and with an impressive bed head, blond curls flying in every direction as if a tornado had styled his hair during the previous night.

 

            It’s currently 8:51 a.m., according to his watch, as Nagisa dashes past another street corner under the rain clouds looming ominously above him; his breaths are starting to grow arduous with the effort. So on top of the goal of showing up at his job on time one of these days, he should also consider working on his physical stamina a bit.

 

            The scenery around him seems unfamiliar but in a pleasant way; perhaps taking a last-minute shortcut is not one of Nagisa’s brightest ideas, especially since his sense of direction is almost non-existent at times. Regardless, he keeps up his pace of a slow jog, the messenger bag he’s carrying insistently swinging and digging into his lower back with every step.

 

            He has taken a quieter road in the area, even though on the other side of him lies the beach, quite empty at this hour. He supposes it’s still too early in the year for tourists and beach-dwellers to come out; it’s still early February after all.

 

            As if the weather is hurrying him on, a sudden onslaught of sea breeze blows past, salty and sharp in his nostrils, and clawing his hair and exposed skin, reddened by the cold. Along the wind comes a foreign sweet aroma.

 

            Nagisa slows down and finally stops in the middle of the sidewalk, the fact that it’ll be his third time being tardy at work this week all but forgotten for the moment as the unexpected luscious smell – a mixture between roasted almonds and fresh peaches – assaults his senses. He draws in that pleasing scent and his legs begin to move on their own in the direction the smell is drifting from.

 

            When he stops again, Nagisa finds himself in front of a small coffee shop. At first glance, it doesn’t look too remarkable. Iwatobi Café – as the navy blue and ivory white wooden sign above his head informs him – bores a post-modern minimalistic design, despite it being less eye-catching than most similar establishments.

 

            The name sounds familiar, and Nagisa recalls vaguely that this is the family-owned café that his parents always brought him and his siblings for late afternoon treats after they played on the beach for the majority of the day in the summers of his childhood. The shop’s strawberry sundae was especially memorable because they used fresh fruits soaked in jam instead of the canned ones drowned in artificial syrup, and even back then, this had made all the difference in Nagisa’s six-year-old mind and taste palate.

 

            Thinking back on it now, his passion for strawberry desserts probably stems from here.

 

            Since he entered middle school, however, Nagisa had come here less and less often, and the place had slowly faded away to the back of his mind through out the years.

 

            It certainly looks very different from what he remembers of the ancient oak and homey exterior from back in the days. The store front is all geometric glass and metal, equipped with a small patio that looks like it can fit two small tables when in use; a few paces away stands a take-out counter with a cheerful pastel blue awning that juts out from the building, the glass display case gleaming slightly in the hazy morning light. Encased inside is the source of the scent Nagisa has been following.

 

            As if in a trance, his cerise eyes staring longingly at the contents within the glass, he makes his way to the front of the booth. The café must still be closed because there’s no one working behind the counter. Crouching to get a better look, the blond-haired man’s eyes widened at the sight: platters of colourful cake slices, macarons, and cookies line the transparent shelf and on the very top, there are three cakes sitting with quiet pride, each highlighting a popular flavour.

 

But what attracts Nagisa’s immediate attention is the strawberry shortcake in the middle. Three disks of circular, honey-bronze cake sits on an elegant glass dish, and in between the slabs are whipped cream like fluffed wisps of cloud and pieces of strawberry slices; the dessert is topped with another film of whipped cream and decorated with the red berries carved into delicate roses that dotted the outer edge as well as a few well-placed mint leaves.

 

            “I’m sorry, but we’re not open yet,” a stern yet still impeccably polite voice interrupts Nagisa’s awed gawking. He blinks, reverie broken, and glances up with a nervous giggle escaping from his throat. He straightens up, and finds that he still has to tilt his head a little in order to look at the man who has just spoken properly, and my oh my, what a sight it truly is.

 

            “Um,” he starts obscurely, his gaze focusing on the violet irises behind the man’s red-rimmed glasses. Nagisa clears his throat and suddenly feels like a child who did something wrong and is being scrutinized for his naughty behaviour, “Those cakes – did you make them?”

 

            The blue-haired male, who places another tray of what looks to be slices of chocolate forest cake into the display case, gives a small smile, posture slightly relaxed at the question, but shakes his head. “They are made fresh everyday by our pastry chef.”

 

Nagisa notes the employee’s slim, black button-down shirt and matching tailored pants, a skinny tie in a silvery grey shade, and a cornflower blue apron that reaches just below his knees. Though they are nothing more than standard uniform for anyone working in coffee house, the attire just seems to accentuate the man’s tall stature more than should be legally allowed.

 

            “I wouldn’t know whether I’d rather just stare at them all day or consume them as fast as possible,” Nagisa laughs, his glance returning to the dessert display with a sort of appreciative gaze, “They’re really beautiful.”

 

            “Like works of art,” the man agrees, nodding.

 

           In the silence of the morning, the first drops of winter rain fall against the awning above them in erratic plops, the frozen sound dragging Nagisa out from his daze; he quickly steals a glance at his wrist watch and mutters a “shit” before he steps off the sidewalk, head turning from left to right, and back to left again, his face growing significantly more concerned as raindrops kiss his skin, a frustrated sigh being forced out of him in the form of misted fog slithering out between his lips.

 

            “What’s wrong?” The staff’s thin brows are knitted, but whether it’s because he’s worried about the stranger’s behaviour or he’s annoyed at the fact that he’s running late with all his tasks before opening the café due to Nagisa’s brief interruption, the blond can’t tell.

 

            Nagisa turns at the question and rushes back under the awning, droplets of rain water rolling off the strands of honey-coloured hair and dripping down on to his chilled cheeks. “I’m kind of, somewhat lost and definitely late for work. Do you happen to know the direction to Iwatobi Maritime Museum? Or even to Shimizu Street? If I can get there, I’ll know the rest of the way.”

 

            “Um, yeah,” he’s about to continue but another voice comes out from the back of the dimly lit shop.

 

            “Rei? You okay out there?”

 

            The staff, now known to Nagisa as Rei, turns around to shout back a reply, “Yeah, Makoto-san, just a sec!” Yet when he’s facing the street once more, the blond is already half-way down the block, a hand waving in a goodbye gesture. He must really be in a hurry, Rei muses with a tiny smile.

 

            “Take a left when you reach Fujita Street and keep going, and you’ll hit Shimizu Street!” He has to yell for his voice to carry to the other man, and when Nagisa raises his arm in recognition and keeps going, Rei rolls his eyes and shouts another hint, “Turn back! It’s the other way!”

 

            Nagisa stops abruptly, almost slipping in his haste, and turns back, water splashing at his feet with every step, and soon dashes past the coffee shop. As he rushes by, hair plastered over his forehead and with a grin so cheerful that Rei wonders how he can pull it off when he’s late for work and is soaked to the bone, Nagisa calls out, “Thanks, Rei-chan!”

 

            “Rei… chan?” It takes him a few seconds to process the too-affectionate nickname before he feels the slight warmth of his own cheeks, “Oi!”

 

            “I’ll be back to try the cakes!” After that exclamation, Rei can’t see him anymore as the other man’s small figure gets swallowed up by the grey, misted rain.

 

            “Something wrong, Rei?” Makoto pokes his head out from the doorway leading into the nook that serves as the work area; in the back of the small room, there are pieces of equipment to make coffees, though the take-out menu choices aren’t as extensive as their eat-in one.

 

            “Ah, no, not really,” Rei looks back outside into the empty street, the downpour falling harder than a few minutes ago as if the sky is about to collapse. He can’t remember the last time it rained that hard. “Just a guy asking for directions.”

 

            “All right then. Let’s get ready to open the shop,” Makoto gives him a bright smile and a light, encouraging slap on the shoulder, and Rei can’t help but return a smile of his own as well.

 

He’s been working for the Tachibana family for the last three years in order to support himself in terms of school tuition since going into a two-year mathematics masters program is not the most affordable thing to do after graduation, but it isn’t until recently that Rei has made the acquaintance of the eldest son in the family. Perhaps it’s because they are only a few years apart, but with Makoto’s approachable and cheerful attitude and Rei’s usually calm and composed nature – except when it comes to his almost obsessive belief in making beautiful latté art for the patrons – the two young men work well together despite the fact that Makoto has only been the manager for a few months.

 

            With the recent addition of the new pastry chef, whom Rei respectfully calls Nanase-san at first, even though the man himself insists on the younger man to call him by his first name because according to Haruka, stiff courtesy is so pointless when the group is required to work so closely together anyway, Rei is still getting used to some of Haruka’s strange working habits

 

            Since Haruka bakes a different batch of a variety of cakes and tarts everyday, one of Rei’s jobs before opening is to clean the previous day’s menu on the chalk board that hangs at the back wall of the café and write down the new items that Haruka has made for that day in a painfully neat cursive writing that only he can manage whilst balancing himself on a ladder. To make the wall stand out more in the dimmed lighting, Rei uses coloured chalks to decorate the empty space with different quotes or lyrics in elegant fonts and graphics.

 

            Today, as he finishes writing up the names of the desserts and tucks the piece of paper into the pocket of his apron, Rei rubs the tip of the blue chalk thoughtfully, his mind thinking up songs that matches the mood of the day. A flash of bright cerise eyes shimmering in the hazy rain pops into his head, and his hand automatically starts scribbling on the wall.

 

            “Hurry home before the sky breaks out; no point predicting things that happen all the time,” Makoto reads out the lyric as Rei makes his way down and begins to put the chalk and ladder away. “Where’s that one from?”

 

            “Sondre Lerche’s ‘I Guess It’s Gonna Rain Today’,” Rei informs him with a wry smirk.

 

            Makoto laughs good-naturedly, glancing out at the gloomy weather outside and thinking that they won’t be able to open up the patio for use after all, “That certainly matches today’s atmosphere all right.”

 

            Behind the till and the coffee bar, Rei notices a new advertisement posted on the window by the front entrance.

 

           “Makoto-san, are we hiring new staff?” He puts some coffee beans into the grinder and turns the machine on, the strident whirring noise making him wince as he moves closer to where Makoto is wiping down the tables; Rei grabs a spare towel and proceeds to help him out.

 

            “Yeah, I thought maybe Haruka can use a kitchen staff to help out with the prep work, especially in the afternoons and on the weekends when we have the most customers,” the brunet puts away the cleaning supplies and stretches his arms over his head.

 

            Makoto glances at the clock and asks, “Are you ready to go, Rei?”

 

The navy-haired man nods in affirmation, taking his place behind the counter once more as the grinder finishes its task, a subtle whiff of fresh coffee drifting throughout the shop.

 

            “I wonder if he’ll come back,” Rei murmurs, mostly to himself, but Makoto catches his words all the same.

 

            “Who?”

 

            “Oh! The man who asked me for directions earlier,” Rei replies with a slight blush as he puts some of the grinds into the espresso machine, “He seemed fascinated with Haruka-san’s cakes and said he’d come back to give them a try.”

 

            “Let’s just hope the rain won’t keep him away,” Makoto switches the sign at the door from “Sorry, the ocean’s asleep” to “The ocean welcomes you”.

 

            As Makoto goes to the kitchen to make sure Haruka has everything prepared for the day, Rei thinks, the stranger’s grin and golden hair dampened and sleek with rainwater engraved in his mind, ‘I really doubt a little rain would be able to stop him.’

 

-

 

It’s about an hour before closing – the rain has yet to have any intention to stop and at 10 p.m., with only a handful of college students working hard on their laptops or textbooks, Iwatobi Café’s atmosphere is as desolate as the weather outside, even when Makoto puts on something a little more upbeat on the stereo – when Nagisa straggles in from the downpour, this time with a red umbrella in his hand.

 

            When the wind chime signals his arrival, Rei routinely turns to the sound and greets him, “Welcome to Iwa – oh, it’s you.” The moment he sets his sight on those crimson irises and infectious grin, Rei temporarily forgets all his hosting manners. “I mean, welcome to Iwatobi Café. For how many people?”

 

            “Just me, thanks,” Nagisa replies, putting his umbrella into the stand by the door and follows the dark-haired man to a small round table by the windows. “Told you I’ll be back.” His tone belies hidden mirth but it isn’t an obnoxious sound as if to prove his point from this morning; rather, his voice indicates his anticipation to be here as previously promised.

 

            Rei doesn’t know how to react to the stranger’s enthusiasm, though he does give him an uncertain smile as he leaves the coffee menu on the table and a courteous introduction, “Cake selections for the day is on the board over there. If you have any questions at all, please let me know.” Rei is about to return to his position at the till but doesn’t get the chance.

 

            “Actually, I already know what I want,” Nagisa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Can I get a slice of strawberry shortcake?”

 

            “Of course,” the man jots the information down, recalling the worshipful way the blond man had been staring at the strawberry dessert in the display case earlier that same day. “Would you like a drink to go with that, sir?”

 

            “It’s Nagisa,” the blond responds instead.

 

            “Hah?”

 

            “My name’s not ‘sir’; it’s Nagisa,” he tells Rei as if it’s of utmost importance that the other man should know of this fact. “It’s only fair to let you know my name since I already know yours, Rei-chan.” The smile he sends the barista is almost teasing, or maybe Rei is just reading too much into this.

 

            “Seriously, what’s with the ‘chan’? We’ve only just met today, you know.” Rei’s voice is bordering between a tad bit hysterical and helpless as he doesn’t know what to do with a man like Nagisa. And what kind of man _is_ Nagisa anyway?

 

           Rei begins to wonder, but not before the blond murmurs quietly, “But it suits you.” In a more audible volume, Nagisa answers Rei’s initial question, “And you don’t want to see me when I have caffeine in my system.”

 

            Rei isn’t about to question Nagisa’s coffee-drinking habit, so he decides to leave it at that, only scooping up the menu and heads off towards the kitchen with a brief, “You order will be right up.”

 

            Once Rei returns to set down the food and utensils on Nagisa’s table, the blond’s attention is solely drawn to the dessert. It appears to be as appetizing and visually-alluring as the masterpiece he saw in the glass case this morning: the berries bloom a rich burgundy, the cream as fluffy and milky white as fresh snow, and the layers of cake are browned to a light honey colour. Just the presentation of the cake itself is a feast for the eyes.

 

            He cuts a piece with the side of his fork and carefully takes a bite, his eyes slipping close as he chews. Rei watches with minimal interest behind the counter, mostly because he has nothing better to do at the moment since the customers don’t seem to require Rei’s assistance.

 

            The expression on the man’s face changes drastically, to Rei’s amusement, from one of thoughtfulness as he lets the taste overtake his senses to his eyes snapping open in surprise and a slow, satisfied smile spreads on his lips.

 

            “This is so delicious!” It bursts out of his mouth unexpectedly loud, just like how the tart juices of the strawberries explode on his tongue. Nagisa claps a hand over his mouth when one of the college students sitting at an adjacent table sends him an annoyed glare before going back to the tapping of her keyboard.

 

            “Sorry,” Nagisa mouths a silent apology to Rei, who has began to walk towards him. “It’s just… it’s so good!” He actually has the capacity to look petrified as Rei approaches him with a blank face before the barista breaks into an amused chuckle. Nagisa visibly relaxed his posture, and continues to eat the cake, though now in a quickened pace as if he couldn’t fill his stomach with this delectable concoction fast enough.

 

            “Don’t worry about it; you’re not the only one,” Rei tells him, “Haruka-san’s cakes have a tendency to make people react that way.”

 

            “That’s the pastry chef you mentioned this morning – the one who made all the cakes in this shop?” His eyes have grown as huge as saucers as if he couldn’t quite believe such a being could even exist. When Rei nods, the blond man can only mutters, “Damn. He must be a god of sweets or something. I’ve never tasted any strawberry shortcake quite like this.”

 

            Nagisa is being sincere when he makes those compliments; he’s passionate about desserts in general but strawberry shortcake has to be his favourite, so he has tried the same cake in almost any dessert shop he has visited. Compared to those other cakes, Haruka’s creation ignites something warm and familiar – a childhood memory of the long lost summer days – inside Nagisa, and that feeling only burns and spreads deeper into his core with each bite of conflicting sharpness and sweetness until he had to let it out in the form of his words.

 

            “What have I been eating all these years?” Nagisa wonders out loud, shaking his head slowly in marvel.

 

            “Is it really that good?”

 

            “What do you mean ‘is it really that good’? What kind of question is that? Haven’t you tried any of them?” Now, Nagisa just sounds like he’s been personally offended by Rei’s off-handed question.

 

            “I’m actually not that big on sweet foods,” Rei fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose to hide the slight blush.

 

            “Can I meet him?” Nagisa isn’t even listening anymore as an idea comes into existence in his mind. He will need to find out why this gorgeous barista (Wait, did he say ‘gorgeous’? Slip of the tongue, that is. But it’s not as if Nagisa’s wrong on that account. Still – not big on sweets? Nagisa will need to find a way to work around that.) dislikes desserts at another time.

 

            “Haruka-san?” Rei seems uncertain.

 

            Nagisa nods vigorously, blond curls falling into his bright eyes, and how can Rei deny that? The staff checks the time, and deems it appropriate to at least give it a try since Haruka will most likely be done for the night.

 

            “I’ll go in and see if he’s busy.”

 

            “Thank you, Rei-chan!” His grin is too much – too cheerful, too vibrant, and too goddamn adorable – for Rei to handle at this time of night, when he’s so tired from the day’s workload that he can barely stand on his feet. He doesn’t even have the energy to tell the other man off about the addition of ‘chan’ to his name.

 

            “I’m the pastry chef of Iwatobi Café – Haruka Nanase. Nice to meet you,” the man standing before Nagisa doesn’t extend a hand for him to shake, but he gives the blond an acknowledging nod, his striking blue eyes displaying equal parts concern and curiosity. There are specks of flour on his chef coat, but that’s to be expected when the cloth itself is black; the dark colour of his uniform accentuates his slim physique and Nagisa can see how Haruka’s slender fingers are able to do such delicate designs on the cakes he saw this morning.

 

            “So you’re the pastry god that made all these delicious cakes?” Nagisa needs to be sure.

 

            “Thank you for your compliment,” Haruka doesn’t address the ‘god’ part of that question, but he knows when to appreciate a customer’s kind words. “Yes, I do make all the dessert items in this shop.”

 

            Maybe Haruka should have seen it coming; maybe Rei should have seen it coming, too. Yet, neither of them can quite react when, after a few seconds of silence in which none of them seems to be able to find words, Nagisa grabs a hold of Haruka’s arm and declares in a rather loud and pleading voice, “Will you please teach me how to bake?”

 

            “Do we have a job applicant?” It’s at this precise moment when Makoto steps out from the back room, a confused but still friendly smile on his face.

 

            “Uh,” Rei can only stammers, whereas Haruka is actually shaking his head with an expression of ‘this is a bad idea, Makoto, please don’t do this’ aiming at the owner of the shop.

 

            “Are you guys hiring?” Nagisa asks, turning to face Makoto.

 

            “Yes – a kitchen staff, preferably,” the brunet replies calmly.

 

            “This is meant to be,” Nagisa announces.

 

            “Woah, not so fast, mister,” Makoto places a firm hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.

 

“It’s Nagisa – Nagisa Hazuki,” he volunteers.

 

“Makoto Tachibana – owner and manager,” he introduces himself, offering his hand and Nagisa shakes it with a surprising steadfastness. “Alright then, Hazuki-san, have you ever worked at a restaurant, or a coffee shop before? Do you have any experiences working in the kitchens? Or anything related to baking and food preparation?”

 

            “No, no, and kind of,” Nagisa answers smoothly without missing a beat. “I’ve worked at a fast food chain in a food court before – for two months.”

 

            “I see,” Makoto remains unruffled by Nagisa’s energetic attitude; he actually rather enjoys working with people who are enthusiastic about work and are keen learners if they understand from the get go that they don’t yet have the experiences. “But why are you interested in working for this café in particular?”

 

            “Because you have Haruka Nanase, and I want to learn from the best there is.” That’s an easy question for Nagisa to answer.

 

            “I’m far from being the best pastry chef, Hazuki-san,” Haruka says this with the teeniest bit of impatience though his expression reveals nothing.

 

            “You don’t understand,” Nagisa begins to explain, his voice more quiet and reverent, “Haruka-san, your cakes – they’re beautiful to look at, and not only that, but they taste great, too! Yet, when I ate that strawberry shortcake just now, it’s not only the stunning design and the taste that catches me off guard; it was the feeling it gave me when I was eating it. The flavour somehow reminded me of happier times, and – I really had a god-awful start at work today, as Rei-chan here can probably attest to, and it didn’t really go away for the entire day until now. That shitty emotion was erased just like that, with one slice of your cake.”

 

            “I see you’ve already got quite a fan, Haru,” Makoto chuckles, and the pastry chef can only sigh in return. From Makoto’s tone, Haruka can tell that a decision has already been made, and he supposes he should just prepare for the worse.

 

            “Hazuki-san,” Makoto begins, his voice turning serious, and the blond can detect the change of tone immediately.

 

            “It’s just Nagisa.”

 

            “Then, Nagisa, are you ready to devote your time and sweat to the position of kitchen staff and the chef’s apprentice?” Nagisa has to pause for a few seconds before Makoto’s words finally hit him.

 

            “Yes! Absolutely yes! Thank you! I will work hard!” He throws his arms around the taller man, and Makoto returns the gesture with a light embrace, though slightly shocked and amused by the blond’s unexpected hug attack.

 

            On this winter night, when the sky seems to be the darkest and it looks like the sky won’t stop weeping, the four men meet at Iwatobi Café: this is their starting point, a new beginning, a new friendship, and perhaps, even a hint of romance when the aroma of summer surges through their lives. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I wrote a piece that’s centered on Rei and Nagisa and hopefully it won’t be the last. The next chapter will probably be MakoHaru again.


End file.
